A Night to Remember
by LookingForMyLastCenturion
Summary: Kim only wanted to go home after her boyfriend assaulted her at prom. Instead, she steps through a door into a life she never thought possible, complete with ghosts, monsters, and a pair of brothers in a vintage Chevy. The only problem is, not everything in Kim's life is as it seems. Terrible summary, but hopefully worth the read.
1. Chapter 1

Kim was crying when she ran into the closet.

She closed the door quietly, but forcefully behind her. She inhaled deeply and slid to the ground, the tears flowing freely. She drew her knees into her chest and sobbed quietly, her shoulders heaving. Her skirt splayed out around her. It was torn, as was the green crinoline underneath it. A few locks of her wavy brown hair had fallen free of her updo and settled over her shoulders.

She sat there, listening as people passed. They were all laughing and chatting, as though nothing had happened. But to them, nothing had. It was just prom. They were just out dancing. They hadn't nearly been raped.

After a little while, she stood. There was a mirror that hung on the opposite wall. She looked into it, pinning back pieces of stray hair, wiping away her smeared makeup. She straightened her shoulders and looked herself square in the eye.

"Hold yourself together, Kimberly. Breathe. You're going to march out of here and call the police. Everything is going to be alright."

And so she did. Or, at least she thought that's what she was going to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Kim pushed the door back open.

The moment she stepped out, she found herself pinned back against the door by a strong forearm pressed against her throat.

The forearm belonged to a man at least half a foot taller and 60 pounds heavier than her. He had a knife pressed to her stomach, and his eyes were as cold and hard and green as river stones. In any other situation, he might have been attractive, with his dirty blonde hair and rugged jawline.

She swallowed her heart, which had forced its way into her throat.

"P-please," she stammered, "don't hurt me. I-"

"Who the hell are you?" The man growled.

"My name is K-Kim. Please let me go! I swear, I'll scream!"

He removed his arm from her neck, grabbed her by the wrist, and had her hand cuffed to a dresser faster than she could even tell where the handcuffs came from.

For the first time, she could really see her surroundings. This wasn't the dance floor of the Washington Park Event Center. This was a skeevy motel room, with two unmade beds and an entire arsenal on the kitchenette table.

"Listen," she squeaked, "there must be some kind of mistake. I'm not supposed to be here!"

"Damn right you're not," the man said. He grabbed her free arm. Kim squirmed to get away, but he was too strong.

"Hold still," he commanded. She meekly complied. He poured some liquid out of a flask onto her hand. He looked at it expectantly, but nothing happened.

"Listen sir, I've had a very difficult night. I'd just like to go home." Her voice was breaking, and the tears threatened to come back.

He didn't answer. Instead, he just poured another liquid onto her arm. The smell of ammonia filled her nostrils.

"What are you doing? Is that floor cleaner?"

"Yep," he answered. "Heavy duty industrial stuff. I'm just making sure everything you say is true."

"I'm sorry, what? Wait, hold on, stop!"

The green-eyed man had picked a knife up again, and was walking toward her. The blade looked like it was made of solid silver. He grabbed her free arm again, and drew the blade across the top of her forearm. She hissed as the blade broke her skin.

"Just make it quick," she whispered.

The green-eyed man looked at her quizzically.

"Make what quick?"

"Killing me. Don't make it slow like this, just do it quickly." Kim squeezed her eyes shut.

The man scoffed.

"I'm not going to kill you. I was just testing you to make sure you were... ok."

"Ok?" Kim raised an eyebrow. "Ok? I'll tell you what, I am not ok! I was nearly raped tonight! I was supposed to have the time of my life tonight! Instead, my idiot boyfriend gets drunk and decides it was high time I lost my virginity! I was just going to go home and call the police and take a bath and go to bed! But no! I end up in a motel room with some psycho who cuts me and dumps cleaning supplies on me and then tells me he's "testing me!'"

The man just stood there, staring, wide-eyed.

Behind him, the motel door room opened. A man even bigger than him walked in with grocery bags. He was younger than the green-eyed man, with high cheekbones and hazel eyes. His brown hair fell to his shoulders, and he had neatly trimmed sideburns.

"Dean... What's going on?" He asked. He set the grocery bags on the table.

"Um... Well, a teenage girl fell out of our closet, kinda like Henry did, and things didn't exactly go according to plan."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I think I just contributed to the most traumatizing day of her life."

"Great," the big man huffed.

He reached into one of the duffel bags that sat on the kitchenette chairs and pulled out a roll of gauze. He approached her cautiously, with his free hand open, palm facing her. His hands were impossibly large, but surprisingly gentle as he cleaned and wrapped her cut.

"My name is Sam, and this is my brother, Dean," he said, looking her in the eye. His expression was softer than his brother's. "I'm really sorry about this. Dean gets a bit... jumpy. He just thought he was protecting himself."

Dean moved toward her, slowly. He held up his hands to show that they were empty, save for the handcuff keys between his thumb and forefinger. He unlocked them, much more gently than when he had put them on her.

"I'm Kim, and I just want to go home," she said, rubbing her chaffed wrist.

"Ok," Sam said. "Where's home?"

"320 Sycamore."

"320 Sycamore? Are you sure?" Sam wrinkled his brow.

"Yeah. 320 Sycamore street, Denver, Colorado."

Sam and Dean cast a look at each other.

"What? What is it?" Kim asked.

"Kim," Dean said, "there's no Sycamore street around here."

"What are you talking about? Of course there is. It's only a mile or two west of here."

"Kim, he's right. There's no Sycamore street around here, because we're not in Denver. We're just outside of Grand Rapids, Michigan. Small town called Lowell," Sam said.

Kim just stared at them, open mouthed.


	3. Chapter 3

"Michigan," Kim gawked. "_Michigan_."

Sam and Dean just stared at her.

"Kim, calm down. There's an explanation behind all this, I'm sure," Sam said, laying his hands on her shoulders. She shuddered, remembering the hands that had been there not an hour ago.

"Please don't touch me," she whispered, and pulled away. She fiddled with the gold monogrammed ring on the middle finger of her left hand, not meeting Sam's eye. She could tell he was looking at her, though.

Sam pulled out a chair from the kitchenette table and offered it to her. Kim looked at it sullenly.

"I think we should talk. You know, just figure everything out, get things under control as best we can."

Sam moved one of the duffels and sat down in another chair. After a pointed glance from his brother, Dean did the same. Gingerly, Kim sat down, arranging her skirt so that the worst of the tear was hidden. For some reason, she didn't want to tell Sam about what had happened. She didn't want him to know, despite the fact that she had fairly screamed it a Dean. She looked at each of their faces in turn. Dean's face was relaxed now. His eyes were softer, and the creases that had been on his brow were smooth. Sam's brow, however, was furrowed. His hazel eyes were concerned. His lips were pressed together.

"I uh... I'll start, I guess," he said. "I'm Sam, he's Dean, we're brothers. We, uh... We travel a lot. Pick up jobs here and there, make our way through life as best we can. There's not a whole lot more to know about us."

Kim raised an eyebrow.

"How is it that I'm not buying it. Messrs. Odd-Jobs-Jacks-of-All-Trades. You have a god damn arsenal on your dining room table. I show up here and you run "tests" on me. Tell me the truth."

"Hows about we hear a bit about you first?" Dean pressed. "I still don't know what's going on here."

"My name is Kim. I've only told you that five times," she chuckled humorlessly. "I was born July 19th, 1995. I'm a senior at Hill View High School in Denver. I'm set to graduate in nineteen days. In the fall, I'm going to Stanford. I'm the first in my family to go to college. My mom is a secretary, and my dad's a mechanic. I don't have any siblings, but I always wanted a brother.

"Tonight was my prom night. I was supposed to have a great time. "A night to remember," Mom called it. Well, I'll remember it all right. My date smuggled in a bottle of vodka, got drunk to the point of slurring and stumbling. He uh... He got a little... Handsy. I didn't like it, I told him no, he got forceful. I ran away and hid in a janitor's closet. I pulled myself together, and I was going to go home and call the police. I open the door, and I'm accosted by a mad man with a knife and window cleaner."

"Floor cleaner," Dean corrected. "Has Borax in it."

She scoffed.

"Kim, did you notice anything weird about that janitor's closet? Any weird symbols on the walls, any... strange smells, cold spots?" Sam asked.

Kim raised an eyebrow again.

"What, do you think I walked into some haunted, possessed broom closet?"

Dean looked at Sam, impressed. "She's good."

"How did you-" Sam began.

"Simple. You have a half the guns in the state on Michigan here on your table, but it's not just ammunition with it. You've got weird stuff. Rock salt in shells, flasks of holy water, crucifixes. Basically, I'm sitting in a motel with a couple of guys who are probably total nutbags who hunt monsters."

"H-how do you know all this stuff?" Sam asked, incredulous.

"I'm going to major in anthropology, with a focus on folklore. Salt supposedly wards of ghosts and other nasties, crucifixes and holy water bug demons."

"She is _really _good. Sam, I kinda like this girl."

"We can't keep her, Dean. She's a girl, not a pet. Her parents don't even know she's gone yet."

Dean shrugged.

Sam looked at her.

"First of all, yeah. We're... "monster hunters," like you said. We're not nutbags. We're gonna get you home. Dean, go check us out. We're gonna have a long drive ahead of us."


	4. Chapter 4

Sam packed the weapons and assorted accoutrements into the duffels. He handed one to Kim and did a last sweep of the room.

"Ok. So, off to Denver," he said as they left the room.

Out in the parking lot, Dean was leaning against a black car. Kim inhaled sharply.

"Is that a '67 Impala?"

Dean grinned at her.

"Yes ma'am it is. V8 327 4 ba-"

"-rrel engine," Kim joined him with a smile.

Dean looked impressed and pleased.

"So, cars and monsters. You sound like the kinda person I'd enjoy being around."

Kim flushed.

Sam cleared his throat. He rifled around in the trunk, arranging and rearranging things.

"Alright," he said, closing the trunk. "We're ready to go."

Dean looked her up and down.

"Do you have anything more... comfortable than that? Or at least better shoes?"

Kim had forgotten what she was even wearing. She looked down at her ruined dress. The top layer of the fluffy tea-length skirt was torn up to where it was sewn to the somewhat constricting bodice. Part of the green crinoline was hanging off in a strip and dragging on the ground. Her patent leather heels were scuffed.

"I was at prom. Why would I bring extra clothes? I wasn't exactly expecting a portal door."

Dean shrugged. He went around to the back of the Impala and rooted around in the trunk for a moment. Then he tossed a plaid flannel shirt at her.

"You'll swim in it because it's mine, but it'll be warmer than what you have."

She chuckled and pulled the shirt on over her bare shoulders. It smelled of Old Spice and whisky and motor oil, kind of like her dad. Buttoned up, it would almost have reached her knees.

"Hold on," she said, holding up a finger. "Stay right there. And leave the trunk open."

The brothers looked confused, but stayed where they were. Kim opened the door and slid into the back seat. Carefully, she eased out of her dress without ever removing Dean's battered flannel. She got back out of the car and threw the prom dress into the trunk.

Sam chuckled.

"What?" she asked.

"That's a look. High heels and old flannel."

"Shut up," she smirked, taking off her heels and chucking them in the trunk.

Dean had gone around and started the car. Sam sat in the front seat, and Kim curled up against the door in the back behind Dean. The radio flicked on.

"_And in the darkest depths of Mordor, I met a girl so fair..."_

She hummed along softly as Dean pulled out of the motel parking lot.

He glanced in the rear view mirror.

"Ok, what's with you? You're a 17 year old girl who likes Zep, knows vintage cars, and gets demons. That's not normal," he quipped.

Kim shrugged.

"It's my dad, mostly. He never listens to anything recorded after '79," she smiled. "AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, Boston, Styx, the whole nine yards. We listen to it while he works on the cars that come into the garage. I usually visit him after school, do my homework in the shop. He taught me a few things. He always wanted a '67 Impala, but every time he'd get close to getting one, Mom'd talk him out of it. The demon thing's my own research."

Dean looked over at his brother, smiling.

"Her dad sound like anyone to you?"

"Yeah," Sam chuckled. "Sounds like Dad if he hadn't been a hunter."

"This car was our dad's," Dean explained. "He bought it back in '74, right before he married our mom. He was a mechanic too, before he got into hunting. All music in this car is dated post 1960, pre 1985, as per the driver's preferences."

"Which came from his father," Sam added.

"Yeah, well it's better than your crap."

Sam just rolled his eyes.

The ride from then on out was fairly quiet, apart from Dean's music. Kim drifted in and out of consciousness, exhaustion and shock overtaking her one hour, and the next the ideas raced as to how she really could have gotten there in the first place. Eventually, the urge to sleep was too strong to resist, and she slipped into a restless sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Every few hours or so, one of the brothers would gently shake Kim awake and make her eat something they had picked up at the last gas station. For the most part, she was thankful when they woke her. She had nightmares of what had happened at the dance, but sleep was impossible to resist.

As the sun rose, she woke for good. Dean pulled the Impala into a small diner parking lot.

"Up n' at 'em, Kimmy."

Kim stretched and cracked her joints. She was stiff from leaning against the door all night.

"Where are we?" she groaned, twisting her back.

"Omaha. We're a little more than halfway there."

"Good. And Dean?"

"Yeah?" He looked back at her.

"Don't call me Kimmy."

He shrugged and got out of the car.

Sam was waiting outside her door. The parking lot gravel dug into her bare feet.

"I picked these up for you a couple gas stations ago," he said, handing her a pair of red rubber flip flops. "I didn't think you'd really want to wear high heels with your shirt... dress... thing."

"Thank you," she smiled. Then, as much to her surprise as his, she hugged him. She wrapped her arms around his firm middle and buried her face in his chest. Sam seemed to hesitate, and then wrapped her in a strong embrace.

"Hey, you two," Dean called. "Hurry up, I'm hungry."

Kim broke away from Sam and clung to Dean just as tightly as she had to his brother.

Dean tensed under her arms. Slowly, he relaxed and returned the embrace.

"Thank you," Kim said when she broke away. "You've been so good to me when you had no reason to be. You could have just thrown me out and let me fend for myself, but you didn't. You... You took care of me, when all I really needed was to be taken care of."

"It's just what we do," Dean said simply.

"So, what, people falling out of your closet is a common occurrence for you guys?" she smirked.

"Happens more than you might think," Dean said, walking toward the diner. Sam just chuckled and smiled, following his brother.

Kim hurried after them, her flip flops smacking the bottoms of her feet as she went.

The waitress seated them in the corner. Sam and Dean sat facing the door, eyes alert. The trio silently looked over their menus.

The waitress was pretty, in her mid-twenties, with sandy blonde hair and light blue eyes. Her voice was high and soft as she took their orders. They sat quietly until she came back with their coffees.

After they drank deeply from their mugs, Kim spoke up.

"So, I've told you guys a fair bit about me. I want to know about you guys. All I know're your names and that Dean likes the same cars and music as my dad."

Sam and Dean shared one of their odd communicative glances.

Dean inhaled and took a sip of his coffee.

"We were both born in Lawrence, Kansas. I was born on January 24th, 1979, Sammy was born on May 2, 1983. We've been hunters all our lives. Our mom was raised a hunter, but left the life for good when she married our dad. She didn't want us to be raised like that."

"But you were," Kim stated.

"Yeah," Dean took another sip of his coffee. "Are you going to interrupt with the obvious frequently?"

"No. Sorry. Go ahead."

"November 2nd, 1983 was when our lives changed. Mom and Dad put Sam and I to bed, just like any other night. Mom was taking care of some things upstairs, Dad was watching TV downstairs. Dad heard Mom scream from upstairs and came up to check on things. He walked into the nursery, didn't see anything, so he checked on Sammy. Everything seemed normal. Then he noticed something dripping into the crib. He looked up, and..."

Dean inhaled again and took another long draw on his coffee. His eyes were tight, and his mouth was set in a thin line.

"And he saw Mom. On the ceiling. She was bleeding from her stomach. Then she caught fire, along with the rest of the nursery. I had woken up during all this, and I ran into the room, to Dad. I was just a scared kid, you know? He handed me Sammy. "Take your brother outside a fast as you can, don't look back. Go, Dean! Now!" he said. I'll never forget those words. Dad found out later that it was a demon that killed Mom. The police reports said it was from the fire that took the house. Ever since then, we were raised on the road, as warriors. Fighting the supernatural, saving things. I usually just went along with it. Sammy here, though... He never cared much for it. Too much of a nerd."

He smiled at his bigger little brother.

"Dad and Sam fought all the time. It got really bad sometimes, you know? But the worst it got was when Sam decided to go to college. He and Dad really went at it. I thought someone was gonna lose teeth. But he went. Full ride to Stanford."

Kim looked at Sam.

"Really? You went to Stanford?" she smiled.

"Yeah. Pre-law," Sam nodded. "That's where you're headed in the fall, right?"

"Yeah. No full-ride for me, but a decent enough scholarship that I can go with minimal debt incursion."

Sam gave her a look of approval.

"So what happened?" she asked. "Why aren't you some big shot lawyer? How'd you get back to hunting?"

Sam gave a small sigh.

"Our Dad went missing for awhile," he said. "I was just getting ready to go law school, when Dean shows up at my apartment and tells me that "Dad's been on a hunting trip and hasn't checked in for awhile." I went with him to look, we took care of a vengeful spirit, and when we didn't find Dad, Dean brought me home in time for my law school interview the next morning. I was living with my girlfriend, Jess... I got home, and I thought she was in the shower. I was beat, so I just collapsed on the bed. My eyes were closed, and then something started hitting my face... It... It was Jess' blood. She was on the ceiling. Then she caught fire..."

Sam trailed off.

"My god... I-I'm so sorry. For both of you. That's awful, first your mom, then Jess... I'm so sorry."

"It was years ago. That part's done now. It's over. We've lost a lot more than them," Dean said.

Kim sat back and drank her coffee. She didn't want to ask any more questions. The waitress brought them their food, and they ate in silence.


End file.
